On His Six

by Patricia D. Eddy

  His eyes narrow, blond, bushy brows drawing together as he dangles a syringe from his fingers. “You want this, sweet Red? Medicine to make everything fun again?”

  “Yes. Please.” I’m so scared, my whole body is shaking, and if I can’t get out of this room in the next few minutes, I’ll pass out, and he’ll do…God knows what to me.

  The syringe lands on the bed. “Not yet.” Kolya lunges for me, and I’m too slow, too weak to get away. His fingers tighten on my arm, hard enough to leave yet another bruise, and he spins me around and bends me over the bed. I yelp and thrash, but he pins my arms at the small of my back. “I am not going to kill you, sweet Red. I am going to keep you. And I want you to understand what that means.”

  “No!” I scream. “Don’t!” He’s hard already, grinding against me through his pants. “Get off of me!”

  Kolya laughs, pulls a thin rope from the nightstand, and has it looped around my wrists in a few seconds. Helpless, terrified, I kick him, and I must find his dick, because he goes down with a groan. I have to get free. I aim another kick in the same general area, and this time, I hit his balls.

  Working my wrists, I rub them raw in seconds, but he never knotted the rope, and it starts to loosen. My right hand pops free, and I lunge for my hidden weapon. Swinging wildly, I connect with the side of his head.

  “Cyka! Kolya growls as blood wells at his temple. My pitiful strike did nothing but daze him and piss him off, and I try again, grunting as I bring the metal down on the top of his skull. But the impact sends the piece of metal clattering to the floor, and I scramble back, almost falling on my ass. The needle glints in the lights. Can I dose him before he overpowers me?

  I pause for a single second, the lure of not caring when he rapes me stronger than I expect, but then I hear Ryker’s voice in my head. “I care, Wren. I care.”

  If he’s alive, I have to get out of here and get back to him. Because…I care too. More than I knew. Snatching the needle from the bed, I lunge at Kolya. He tries to knock my arm away, but my knee lands on his already abused dick, and his reflexes kick in, his hands trying to protect his family jewels. My heartbeat roars in my ears, and my fingers tremble, but I make a fist and punch him in the eye. Pain sings up my arm. I grab a metal lamp from the nightstand and swing it towards his forehead. But it’s too heavy, and it glances off his temple. Still…it’s enough to make him slump to the floor.

  Forcing a deep breath, I angle his head and aim for the pulsing vein on the side of his neck. Please. Please work. As soon as the needle pierces his skin, I depress the plunger.

  Koyla lunges for me, and I go down hard as he jerks my ankle. But his grip loosens a few seconds later, and he groans, then curls into a ball. His limbs move slowly, like he doesn’t quite know how arms and legs work, and as I watch, his entire body goes slack.

  “Hey, asshole.” I should run. He doesn’t answer, and I wave my hand in front of his face. His eyes barely track my movements. I stumble towards the bedroom door, then realize I’m naked. A wave of nausea has me retching, but there’s nothing left in my stomach to throw up. Still, my eyes water, and I can’t move until the sensation passes. Get your marbles together, Wren. Find your stuff and get the hell out of here.

  There. In the corner by the bathroom. My bag. I destroyed my tablet, but dammit…I don’t want him to have anything of mine. My shredded clothes are gone, and I try to remove his shirt—needing something to cover my body, but I can’t manage the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons. The ankle chain digs deeper into my skin as I creep towards the door. Listening carefully, I hear laughter, but it’s far away, like maybe downstairs, and when I peer out into the hall, I’m alone.

  With one last glance back at Kolya, who’s staring at the ceiling with a blissed out look on his face, I creep towards the stairs. But voices head my way, and I stifle my gasp as I dart into another room and try to quietly shut the door.

  Kolya’s office. The chair he tied me to still sits in the middle of the room, righted now. On the desk, his computer is on…and Cracker Jacks…unlocked. I crouch down, ready to dive under the desk if the door opens. But when nothing happens after a few minutes, I stare at his computer screen.

  Elena copied a lot of his financial records. But not everything. The men outside the door are joking and laughing, and I’m trapped. Digging into my bag, I pull out a USB stick and slide it into his computer. My breath catches in my chest as the progress bar fills the screen. All of those idiotic espionage shows where a rogue hacker transfers the contents of someone’s hard drive in five minutes, whispering, “come on, come on, come on,” at the screen? Total horsepucky. But my little drive installs a trojan so I can access his computer from the safe house. If I ever get back there.

  Fifty percent, sixty, seventy… I glance at the door, praying the men don’t come in here. Or go check on Kolya. At one hundred percent, I yank the stick out of the drive and tuck it into my bag. I need the encryption key on it to open the portal.

  I stand up too quickly, and the room spins around me. A moan escapes my lips before I can control myself, and the voices stop. Looking around wildly, I stumble over to French doors that lead out onto a balcony. I can’t fight. I have to get out of here now.

  My first try, my hand is so sweaty and shaky it slips off the handle. Rubbing my palm on my bare thigh, I try again, and an icy wind chills me to the bone. The door snicks shut, and I creep towards the far end of the balcony.

  The freezing concrete makes the soles of my feet tingle. I suck in a breath, my lungs rattling. Crashing to my hands and knees, I sway, falling against the metal railing.

  In the dim light seeping through the drapes, I catch sight of the multiple, red, swollen puncture marks from Kolya’s injections.

  Move, Wren.

  My fingers curl around the top of the railing, and I pull myself up, staring down at the frosty ground four stories below. I can’t…I’m trapped. My chest tightens, and I wheeze, fighting for breath as I search for any possible escape.

  An awning one floor down. But it’s so far away. I’ll have to jump from this balcony to the next. And the next. Then let myself fall. I can’t do this. I’ll die.

  Except…I’ll die here if I don’t try.

  Throwing my leg over the freezing metal, I struggle to focus. Fight through it. You can panic when you’re free.

  I catch my foot when I try to jump to the next balcony, and flop over the other railing, the impact driving the air from my lungs.

  My head hits the concrete as I crash to the ground. “Get up, Wren. Keep moving.”

  Dizzy, shivering, and desperate, I scramble over the next railing and leap, barely managing to stay on my feet. Oh Cracker Jacks. This balcony is at the end of the upstairs hallway. And the drapes are open. Shadows move in my periphery, and as I reach the corner closest to the awning, muffled shouts send terror coursing through me. Blondie and the Groper burst through the doors, guns drawn.

  I don’t think—can’t, anyway—and let myself tumble down onto the awning. I roll, unable to stop myself, until I fall off the edge with a scream.

  As I hit the concrete on the second floor, my knee explodes in pain. A shot pierces the still, quiet night and my left arm starts to burn. Screaming, I throw my hands over my head, curling into a ball.

  Another shot splinters the concrete a few inches away. Everything hurts. I can barely breathe, and when I try to push myself up, my arm collapses under me. Move. Move. Move or die.

  “Wren!”

  Ryker’s panicked shout is so close. I’m hallucinating.

  “Wren. Get up! Now!”

  Oh my God. He’s really here. The look in his eyes—terror, pain, desperation. He’ll save me. If I can get to him.

  The next shot comes from below, followed by three more, and my heart leaps into my throat. Glass shatters, raining down on me as another sound, more solid, lower, echoes from across the street.

  “Wren! Please! Jump, baby. Jump and run.”

  Bullets fly overhead, and I
squeeze my eyes shut. I can do this.

  White hot pain pulses through my arm, but I grab onto the railing and haul myself to my feet. The ground is so far away. But there’s Ryker. Firing more shots over my head.

  Fear glues my bare feet to the concrete until the Groper lands on the other end of the balcony. “You will be sorry, cyka.”

  Another dull thud, and red blooms on his white shirt. He clutches his chest, sinking to his knees, and I throw myself over the edge, praying Ryker will catch me.

  29

  Ryker

  Wren falls, and I’m a second too late. Her legs crumple under her, a gasp escaping her lips, followed by a moan, and then her eyes flutter closed. Firing another five shots towards Kolya’s men, I kneel at her side. “She’s down. Not moving. Cover me.”

  “Roger. Four hostiles north corner,” Inara says calmly. A shot flies across the square. “Three.”

  Blood stains the frosty grass under her naked body, and she’s covered in bruises. Sliding my arms under her, I cradle her to my chest. “Fall back!” I shout.

  “Hostiles neutralized. Falling back.” Inara clicks off comms, and I run for the next street over.

  “Stay with me, sweetheart,” I whisper. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Will she? There isn’t an inch of her unmarked, and she’s so cold, her skin is almost blue.

  As I skid around a corner, the car—with West at the wheel—screeches to a stop right in front of me, and I yank open the door and fall into the backseat. “Go, go, go.”

  “Elena?” West asks.

  “No sign of her. Got a hundred yards away and saw Wren climbing across the fucking balconies.” Brushing her hair away from her face, I watch her breathing. Shallow, but as I bite down on the tip of my glove to pull it off so I can check her pulse, her eyelids flutter.

  “Wren? Can you hear me?”

  A little whimper escapes her chapped and split lips, and my instinct is to tighten my grip, but I don’t know if she broke anything in the fall. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now. But you have to tell me what hurts.”

  “Ry?” The single word is so faint I only hear her because I’m watching her lips so carefully.

  “Right here.”

  She turns her head into my chest and starts to cry, and I give up being careful, crushing her against me and rubbing her back as West takes a corner on two wheels, slams on the brakes, and leans over to open Inara’s door.

  “Holy shit. Your girl’s insane,” Inara says as she tosses her gear bag next to us and turns in the seat. “And braver than half the guys in my last unit.”

  “She doesn’t like being called a girl.” The retort comes out sharper than I intended, and I curse under my breath. “Sorry. Turn up the heat in here. She’s an icicle.” Wren’s tears soak into my shirt, and her entire body shakes in my arms.

  “She’s naked.” Inara shrugs out of her jacket and hands it to me. “Put this on her.” I don’t want to let Wren go long enough to get her arms through the sleeves, so I just drape the black material around her upper body.

  The clink of metal draws my gaze to her legs. “Fuck. Get me a pair of bolt cutters.” The thick metal cuff on her ankle is bloody, several inches of chain dangling from a ring on one side.

  Her hair’s matted and dirty, and there are deep fingertip bruises around her neck. I can’t tell what else is wrong in this position, but as long as she’s breathing, the rest…we’ll deal with together.

  Inara leans into the back seat and rummages around in her bag, coming away with a pair of heavy-duty shears. “I’ll take care of it.” A couple of cuts and a curse later—mine as Inara nicks Wren’s pale skin—the metal falls to the floor.

  Halfway to the safe house, Wren’s sobs fade away, and her body goes slack. Asleep or unconscious, I don’t know, but I can feel her heartbeat, and it’s steady. My mind won’t stop racing. Thinking about all of the horrors Kolya could have put her through.

  West meets my gaze in the rear view mirror. “Semyon’s going to be pissed.”

  “Keep him the fuck away from Wren. We’re not abandoning the mission. Yet. Not until she can tell me what happened to her. But we’re sure as shit not going back there unless we know we can destroy him.”

  “I killed six.” Inara pulls off her black cap and runs a hand through her short-cropped hair. “If Semyon’s numbers were right, we’re still looking at fifteen of Kolya’s loyal muscle men, plus his team of runners. Though hell, some of those kids might easily be turned to our side.”

  West and Inara run a short post-op analysis as we weave through the darkened city streets, but I don’t pay attention. West and I were on opposite sides of the building when I saw a door open out onto a fourth floor balcony and Wren stumbled outside. I didn’t think. Told West the op was FUBAR and headed straight for Wren.

  After West pulls the car around the back of the safe house, Inara opens my door. “Take care of her. We’ll get the gear.”

  I pause for a beat, holding Inara’s gaze. I don’t have the words. I never do—except with Wren. But Inara added six to her tally sheet tonight. Every one takes a toll on her. And she did it for me. For Wren.

  “Go,” she says quietly as she lays her hand on my arm and squeezes. “We’re square.”

  We’re not. I’ll owe her for the rest of my life for this. But I nod and carry Wren straight into the bathroom. She’s still freezing. Once I have warm water running into the tub, I sit with her in my lap and take off my boots. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

  Wren flinches, and her entire body stiffens. “No, not again…no more…I can’t…”

  “Wren. Wake up. You’re safe. It’s Ry. Open your eyes and look at me.”

  Cupping her cheek, I run my thumb gently over her lips. When she forces her eyes open, they’re so bloodshot, I can barely see any white in them, and her pupils struggle to focus. “Ry? Oh God. Ry. You’re…real.” Fresh tears tumble over her cheeks, and I brush them away.

  “I want to get you into the tub, baby. You’re freezing.”

  “Don’t let go.”

  It’s not easy stripping out of my pants, socks, and shirt while holding on to an injured woman, but I manage. And then I shift her and get my first good look at her body. I’m going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. And I’m going to make sure he knows every scream, every cut, every broken bone is payback for what he did to her.

  Her arms bear multiple distinct finger bruises, and blood runs down her left bicep, to her elbow, and half down to her wrist. Long scratches mar her neck and breasts. Ligature marks on her wrists. A fucking boot print on her side, right under her ribs. Deep purple and black spread across her hip. I’m too terrified to look lower. What if he raped her?

  I rest a tentative hand on her thigh, and when she doesn’t flinch, I release the breath I’m holding. “Is this okay?”

  She must understand my hesitation, because she blinks hard and reaches for my cheek. Her hand shakes as her fingers skim my jaw, and she whispers, “He didn’t. He tried, but I stopped him.”

  Thank fuck. I shove my briefs down my legs, kick out of them, and sink down with her into the tub.

  “Hurts,” she whimpers. “Too hot.”

  “It’s only because you’re so cold, baby. Give it a minute or two. I promise it’ll feel better soon.”

  Ten minutes later, she’s stopped shivering, and I pull the plug. The water’s red from the blood still trickling from her arm, but the wound isn’t serious. “Can you stand?”

  She looks up at me, pain, fear, and shame welling in her eyes. “N-no. I don’t think…I’m so tired. Everything hurts. Make it stop…” Panic swallows her words, and she struggles to pull away.

  “What? What do you want? Anything, Wren. Name it.”

  “He…Kolya…told me…oh God. He was right. I can’t…breathe…” Her voice rises in pitch, and she starts to wheeze, her fingers curling around my bicep.

  “Listen to me, baby. You’re safe. He’s never going to hurt you again. Do y
ou understand me?”

  “He…every time…it was worse…I tried to fight…but…I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

  What the fuck? Calm her down. Now.

  “Wren. Repeat these numbers. Twelve, two, ninety-seven, sixty-one, five.” I don’t know if she’s coherent enough to hear me, but I have to get her panic under control before I can find out what’s wrong.

  She loses focus after the third number. “Ry…”

  I do the only thing I can. I kiss her. Cupping the back of her head, I brush my lips to hers, then trace the seam with my tongue. My dick rises to attention, jutting firmly against her ass, and she parts for me, letting me in for several seconds before she pulls away with tears brimming in her eyes.

  “I need…to tell you…show…you…” Her head bobs a little as she tries to extricate her left arm from between us, and I gently take her wrist and help her. Ice creeps through my veins, despite the steam filling the bath. Half a dozen needle marks dot the inside of her elbow.

  “Heroin.” The pieces start to fall into place, and it’s almost like I can hear them click together. The scratches on her chest and breasts. The dazed look in her eyes. The scent of bile in her hair. Kolya drugged her. “How many times?”

  “Dunno. Nothing hurt then. And everything hurts now.”

  “Wren, listen to me. When was your last dose?” I cup her cheek, rubbing my thumb in small circles over a patch of unbruised skin.

  “Wore off. I could think again. Had to…get out.”

  “A few hours then. Five, six at least. I promise, baby. You’ll feel better after I get you clean and we sleep a while.”

  Her eyes unfocus, and though she’s staring right at me, I don’t think she sees me. “You…?”

  “I promise, Wren. I know what that word means to you. And I promise. I’ll take care of you. He won’t hurt you again. We’ll get through this. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.”

  The words catch in my throat. The three words I knew I had to say to her the moment I saw her fall off that balcony. But my promise must be enough, because she rests her head on my shoulder and whispers, “I believe you.”